


Have Faith

by moonlittides



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Universe, Extended Scene, Eye Contact, F/M, Forehead Kisses, Hugs, Jealousy, Political Jon Snow, Reunions, Season/Series 08, Secrets, Squabbling, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 04:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlittides/pseuds/moonlittides
Summary: After reuniting at Winterfell following months apart, Jon goes to Sansa's solar for a private conversation and to catch up on lost time. Angst ensues.





	Have Faith

**Author's Note:**

> This is my own take on the scene between Jon and Sansa from season 8 episode 1. It's based on the canon scene so has the same setting and some of the same dialogue, but I've extended the scene and included Ghost because I felt it was very necessary.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jon steps up to the door of Sansa’s solar and inhales deeply. Their reunion earlier this afternoon was sweet, but he has a feeling the conversation they’re about to have won’t be quite so sweet. He raps at the door three times and waits for permission to enter.

At the other side of the door, Ghost, who is laid beside Sansa’s desk awakes suddenly and looks up at her with those piercing red eyes, before turning his gaze to the door and trotting up to it. Only a few seconds later there’s a knock at the door.

 “Come in,” Sansa calls, already knowing from Ghost’s behaviour that it’s Jon.

The heavy wooden door squeaks on its hinges as it opens, and when Jon enters the room he falls to his knees, burying his face into Ghost’s thick white fur. “Ghost. Oh, I missed you, boy.” Ghost affectionately licks at Jon’s face and he laughs quietly, rubbing at Ghost’s head and giving him a pat before getting to his feet. Ghost walks beside Jon as he approaches Sansa and it feels good to have Ghost beside him again. Being without him for so many months has been like being without a limb.

When Jon’s eyes fall upon Sansa the very sight of her sets his heart racing all over again. Her expression is sombre as she tells Jon, “He missed you.”

Jon strokes the top of Ghost’s head and smiles down at him.

“I presume you’ve seen Arya?”

“Aye,” Jon says, a fond and reminiscent smile on his face. “She’s practically a woman grown now, just as Bran is a man.”

Jon gets the sense that these pleasantries are a formality and understands why when he notices the scroll that’s in Sansa’s hand. Noticing that his eyes are on it, Sansa holds up the scroll for Jon to see and says, “Lord Glover wishes us good fortune but he’s staying in Deepwood Motte with his men.”

Jon throws his gloves down onto the table in frustration. “’House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years’. Isn’t that what he said?

“’I will stand behind Jon Snow’ he said,” Sansa says, getting up from her seat and walking around the table, her back to Jon. “The King in the North.”

The harshness in her voice gets the blood pumping in his veins. “I told you we needed allies,” he replies defensively.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to abandon your crown,” she bites back.

For a moment he feels a swell of guilt, but it passes as quickly as it strikes. “I never wanted a crown. All I wanted was to protect the north. I’ve brought two armies home with me, two dragons.”

She swings around and says venomously, “And a Targaryen queen.”

“Do you think we can beat the army of the dead without her? I fought them, Sansa. Twice. You want to worry who holds what title, I’m telling you _, it doesn’t matter._ Without her we don’t stand a chance.”

Sansa holds his gaze fiercely, her shoulders squared and despite the fire in her eyes he sees also sees a tenderness in them that immediately tames his anger. He sighs lightly and realises how futile this arguing is. At times it feels like this is the only way he and Sansa know how to communicate, but he so desperately wants to change that. He wants to find a way to communicate to her all the things that he cannot say.

“Do you have any faith in me at all?”

“You know I do,” Sansa replies, steadfast and without hesitance.

Her answer causes a warmness to radiate out from his chest. He steps closer to her and says, “She’ll be a good queen for all of us. She’s not her father.”

Sansa studies him for a few moments then states, “No, she’s much prettier.”

Jon smiles and bows his head, knowing that there is no appropriate response he can possibly give to that.

“Did you bend the knee to save the north or because you love her?”

It’s the one question Sansa has been longing to ask and once she’s asked it, it hangs between them, causing the air to grow uncomfortably thick with tension. Jon reluctantly meets her eyes. He regards her for a few moments and notes how different she seems to be since the last time he saw her – how much more tenacious and guarded she is, like cold hard steel. Underneath it all he knows that she is still Sansa - _his_ Sansa - he just needs to reach out to her. He closes the gap between them and hears her breath catch in her throat.

“Do you really have to ask that question? You know why.”

“No, I don’t. I thought I did but—”

“Yes, I did it to save the north,” he interrupts, his voice firm. “Do you think I bent the knee because I _wanted_ to? I did it to save our people and our home and our family. I did it for Bran, for Arya, for you. If you had any idea—” he trails off, shaking his head in frustration, desperately searching for the right words to say. “Everything I do, every—everything I’ve done, I have done for _you,_ for our _family_.” His voice is strong and impassioned, and his words pour out of him in an emotion fuelled admission, leaving Sansa stunned.

“Jon, I—”

“I understand your doubts, Sansa, but you said you have faith in me. If that’s true, then all I ask of you is that you work with me rather than against me.”

“And all I ask is that you tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth or at least what I’m able to tell you of the truth.”

“You were the one that told me we have to be honest with each other, that we have too many enemies.”

“I know and one day I will tell you the whole truth, but not today. Telling you now…it would do more harm than good.”

“Harm? I’m not a little girl. I’m the Lady of Winterfell. Whatever the truth is, I can handle it.”

“I don’t doubt that you can but trust that I’m only keeping from you what is necessary. And trust that everything I do is what I believe in my heart to be in the best interests of the north and our family.”

Sansa’s bosom heaves as her heart hammers in her chest. She opens her mouth as though to say something more but chooses not to.

“Can you trust that?”

She nods her head firmly. “Yes.”

Jon lets out a sigh of relief and a small smile plays across his mouth as he leans forward and plants a gentle but firm kiss at the centre of her head. His soft lips linger on her skin and when he pulls away he rests his head against hers, cradling the back of her head with his hand.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick.

He pulls away from her, his eyes never leaving her face. He’s missed her so much, more than he could ever put into words, and he wants to stay in this moment basking in her sapphire gaze for the rest of eternity.

Unfortunately, he knows there are more pressing matters at hand and whether he is still The King in the North, he has duties and responsibilities that he must see to.

“Now, if you have the time I think it’d be best if you share all that I’ve missed in my absence, starting with Littlefinger. And I will tell you all that I can about my trips south and beyond the Wall and plans for the upcoming war.”

“Shouldn’t we call a meeting for that?”

“I’d rather we discuss it alone first. And once we’re done, this evening you, me, Arya, Bran will sup together. The army of the dead have passed the wall, but for tonight there is little that can be done to change that. But we can celebrate the remaining Starks being back in Winterfell where they belong. It’s what father would have wanted.”

Sansa embraces Jon fiercely and Jon holds her close. There may be secrets that he has yet to tell her, but her faith in him enables them to remain united in the face of a common enemy. The army of the dead may be marching towards them as they speak, but they’re together and they’re home, as is the rest of their family. That makes them powerful and regardless of what the devastating and bloody outcome of the war may be, Jon and Sansa will have the memory of this night - of their family together in their ancestral home - until they draw their very last breath.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
